


A Dying Breed

by CyclonicJet



Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:26:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21785182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyclonicJet/pseuds/CyclonicJet
Kudos: 4





	1. You Know the Music. Time to Dance.

She held her hand above her shoulder, just high enough so that he could see it. All five of her fingers were stretched into the air. She curled one into her palm. Four seconds.

Tom checked his hud. A navmarker pulsed somewhere off below and behind him. Lucy retracted another finger. Three seconds.

The open maw that was the pelicans drop door revealed a crimson sky and gusting hot wind beyond. It blustered into the cabin and rankled anything hanging loose on the racks.

Another finger fell. Another second passed. Tom shifted his weight, preparing to leap from the vehicle. The distant sound of gunfire mixed with plasma hisses reached his ears.

Lucy clenched her hand and stormed forward. She leapt clean off the ramp and fell towards the inferno below. Tom was close behind her. As he fell away from the pelican he turned his gaze around and stared at the CCS class battlecruiser hovering over them. Its central glassing beam was active, melting the ground beneath it into vitrified slag.

“Just like the war!” he called over team speak.

“Nearly, but not quite.” she replied. “We still have no idea what they’re after! At least during the war there motivations were pretty obvious!”

“Then what's say we find out what they’re up to then!” he said.

The two of them angled down and activated their suit thrusters. The terminal descent they had been locked into dropped dramatically as they killed their velocity. Beneath them lay sheaths of cracked and broken glass, with wisps of smoke still wafting off the broken crystalline sheets. Scattered across the rolling sheets were dozens of enemy combatants, all engaged with UNSC forces.

One hundred meters. “Break right!” Lucy called as she angled off to his left. Tom shifted right and raised his rifle up to aim. He started picking targets.

He pulled off three bursts. By the time he hit the ground two grunts and a brute lay dead. He turned and selected a new target. A group of troopers were pinned down by a squad of hulking brutes. They were hiding behind the broken fuselage of a scorpion. 

He downed two of the brutes before they even realised he was there. The remaining members of their squad quickly whipped around to face him, weapons hot and ready to fire. Tom was completely exposed, with no cover in the immediate area to take shelter behind. There was only one thing for it. He charged them. The marines were to quick to follow his lead, breaking cover and advancing on the suddenly beleaguered brute squad.

Plasma fire raked his shields. The energy field fizzled under the sporadic bolts of plasma and finally collapsed just as he reached the lead member of their squad. The brutes seemed confused by the sudden charge of humans rushing them, seemingly paralysed or unable to decide which to prioritise.

Tom launched a punch into the face of the first brute he met. He felt its skull fracture beneath the blow. He carried the momentum forward and launched up off his feet. His thrusters kicked in and gave him the necessary boost to reach up and straddle the shoulders of the brute behind.

The creature had been aiming at the marines, seemingly trusting its brother to deal with Tom alone. The brute roared and staggered forward under the sudden weight increase. But rather impressively it managed to keep its feet. Tom slugged a swift three round burst into the top of its skull. The brute crumpled over like wet tissue paper.

As it toppled forward Tom launched himself off in a back-flip and landed in a crouch on the blackened ground. All around him the brute line was collapsing. The rallied marines were punching back hard. The fight seemed practically over already.

“Tom!” Lucy yelled. “Incoming!”

Tom turned to track her nav marker. Under it he could see an armoured prowler racing towards the marines. Standing in a half crouch on the front of the vehicle was a chieftain, dressed in full covenant-era regalia, and using one hand to purchase itself on the vehicle, while the other was clutched tightly around a gravity hammer.

Tom lifted his rifle and fired at it, but the shots just seemed to bounce off the brutes well armoured chest. He switched targets and aimed at the brute riding shotgun beside him. It bellowed furiously and leapt from the side of the prowler seeking cover from the hail of bullets.

When the vehicle was still some five meters from the marines, who were likewise pouring fire into the chieftain, the brute leapt from the front of the vehicle, flying toward them and raising its gravity hammer into the air.

The marines balked and tried to scramble out of the way. But they weren’t quick enough. A spray of red blood smeared itself across the ground, followed by the anguished cries of dying men and women.

Tom didn’t hesitate for a second. He dashed passed the surviving marines, still pelting as fast as they could away from the chieftain, and unloaded a full clip into the side of its arm to get its attention. That did the trick.

The chieftain hefted the hammer around like a maul, carrying it through at the end of its arm, swinging it around in an arc intended to crush Tom sideways with its weight.

Tom killed his run and used his thrusters to burst backward. The hammer swung by, mere inches away from his chest. Tom clunked a new clip into his rifle and opened up again at close range. Again they just seemed to ping off the goliath beast, no more annoying to it then gnat flies would have been to Tom. All it seemed to achieve was further enraging it.

It lifted the hammer over it head and crashed it down toward him. Tom dodged, blasting himself a few feet to the side. But the sheer concussive shock wave produced as it smashed into the vitrified earth was enough to knock him backward and off his feet.

Tom could see the feral grin on its face. It had its prey cornered. It hefted it’s hammer back up and advanced on him, preparing to deliver a killing strike.

A hail of gunfire suddenly began ripping into the side of the chieftain as the regrouped marines began lightning it up. It turned and roared at them, preparing to dash at them. It took a step towards them and abruptly halted. It dropped its hammer and scrabbled at the back of its head. A moment later it became clear why as a knife sprouted out the front of the tree trunk it called a neck.

It gurgled for a moment, blood rinsing around its mouth before it finally toppled over forward, very clearly dead. Lucy lay crouched on its back, her hand still pressing the knife into its base of its neck. It seemed to take her a moment to realise that it was actually dead before she released her grip on the knife.

She got back to her feet, standing on top of the fallen brutes back. “I’ve told you before.” she said. “You don’t get to die before me.”

He grinned beneath his helmet. “And I’ve told you before. You’re not allowed to die first either.”

“Guess we’ll just have to die together then.” she replied.

He pressed his fingers in the form of a V over the lower portion of his helmet. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She jumped down and extended a hand to help him up. “We Betas stick together.” she said as he took her hand. “No matter what.” She hoisted him back to his feet.

“Don’t really have a choice do we. We’re practically an endangered species.”

Lucy replied with a V smile of her own.

* * *

“Spartans. Status?” barked commander Wanzay over the radio.

“Insertion successful sir.” Tom replied immediately. “We’re on the ground and rendering fire support.”

“You were not inserted to support the local ground forces.” he said. “There job is to keep the enemy busy while you accomplish your mission.”

Tom noticed the slight shift in Lucy’s head at the instruction. She hated this part of being a Spartan. She would never say as much, but Tom knew. Prioritising the mission over saving lives. It was a grim reality of war that she had never been able to fully accept.

“Sir.” he replied dutifully. “Understood sir.”

“Good. Now that we’re back on board with the programme, you’re mission directive is being altered.”

“Sir?” Tom asked.

“Whatever there digging up is no longer your concern. ONI have identified the leader of this fleet as a San'Shyuum. They want that asset secured as a tier one objective.”

Tom and Lucy shared a glance. “A prophet sir?” he said.

“Affirmative. Now acknowledge new command imperative Spartan.”

He noticed Lucy’s grip on her rifle tighten slightly. “Acknowledged sir. Secure the prophet.” Tom said.

“Good. Wanzay out.”

Tom looked at Lucy. Her visor was glued to the ground. Her thoughts inscrutable to all but him.

“Lucy.” he prodded.

“We have orders.” she said. “The sooner we get on board, the sooner we can stop the glassing.”

Tom simply nodded. She turned towards the light of the excavation beam. “Let’s move.”


	2. Smash and Grab

Lucy aimed down the scope on her rifle, scrutinizing the ram shackle operations base the covenant forces had established. It consisted of little more than a few hastily set up communication pylons, which were doubling as makeshift perimeter markers, fencing in an assortment of vehicles. Sitting near the periphery of the collection of ghosts, wraiths, and prowlers Lucy spotted her objective. A huddled group of grounded banshees.

She angled her rifle up to stare at the corvette class ship hovering above the base. It was just one of the three such ships attached to the de facto flagship that was the CCS cruiser.

“So.” Tom whispered. “How do we do this?” 

“Quietly.” she said. “But I’m not overly concerned with ground forces. It’s that corvette that worries me. There’s no way we’ll be able to get passed it once were airborne. It’ll shoot us out of the air like flies.”

“Agreed.” Tom said. “But our options and assets are limited. And every moment we delay more of Rhodes is turned into molten slag.”

“So what do you propose?”

He paused and thought for a moment. “Crash and grab.” he finally answered. “Quick and silent. Hopefully we can grab a pair of banshees and bug out before they even know what happened.”

Lucy considered it for a moment. “Assuming we manage it...it’s still a long way from here to that CCS...and there’s no guarantee they won’t just shoot us down when we get there.”

“No.” he agreed. “But what are our alternatives? We need to act now, before it destroys any more of the planet or decides to bug out itself.”

It was Lucy’s turn to think for a second. “What we need…” she mused. “...is a distraction. Something to draw its focus away from us. That’s our ticket in.”

“And how do you propose we do that?”

Lucy knew there was only one thing heavy enough to draw its attention completely. And she hated that she had to be the one to suggest it. “I have an idea.” she said. “But I’m going to need to make a call first.”

* * *

The hulking mass of the UNSC frigate _Jovian_ came into view as it broke the lower cloud cover of the atmosphere. Tom watched as it angled down and over them, sailing off to engage the CCS cruiser.

A retrofitted Charon class, it had recently been retrofitted with a limited integrated form of energy shielding. It still had no hope of defeating the cruiser. But it didn’t need too. It only needed to harass it long enough to get its attention. 

Wanzay hadn’t exactly been warm to the idea. Wasting UNSC assets wasn’t something one did casually, especially not something as large as a frigate, but he’d eventually seen the cold logic of the plan.

Oni really wanted this prophet. And they were ready to sacrifice a frigate if needs be to get to them.

He slipped between dormant wraiths. Dodging from one to the next as silently as he could. He checked his nav marker. Forty meters to the banshees.

Another marker pinged behind an adjacent prowler. Lucy was nearly in position.

The plan she had made was sound. It achieved multiple different objectives at once. And he knew she hated that fact. Trading lives for time.

Her status light pinged green. She was ready. He winked a green light back and as one they moved forward across the open field. The pens holding the banshees were a good thirty meters apart from the other vehicles. An easy kill zone if ever there was one.

At times like these he missed his old SPI armour. It may not have possessed shielding, but it had been a whole lot stealthier than Mjolnir power armour was proving to be.

The two were twenty meters from there goal when a brute roar went up and bolts of plasma started lashing towards them.

“Hoof it!” he yelled. He launched forward and dashed for the safety of the next pen. His shields flared but held as he reached the protective carapaces of the banshees. Lucy has been less lucky. She appeared next to him, her armour sparking and a stray spiker shot jutting out of her left arm.

There was no time to ask if she was okay. They needed to move, not talk. He instead offered a quick double orange blip through his helmet, asking if she was still combat capable. A green blip answered him. That would have to suffice.

“Two banshees to our left. You take the first one. I’ll get the second.” Another green blip answered him.

Lucy ran the few meters to the banshee and ducked inside. Tom legged it to the one sitting next to it. He started playing with the controls and revving it to life. It had been a while since he’d run the simulation for this. Longer still since he’d actually done it for real. But muscle memory did the heavy lifting for him as the banshee rose into the air. He quickly turned and gunned it in the direction of the carrier.

The compartment was cramped and tight to move around in. The covenant had certainly not designed these things for comfort. He checked his radar and was comforted to find Lucy trailing right behind him.

Plasma fire and sharp needles flew into the sky around them. They didn’t even attempt to dodge, instead simply pushing the vehicles as fast as they would go.

A sniper shot struck the propulsion unit at the end of his right wing and the engine promptly failed. The banshee banked hard to the right as the other engine tried to compensate for its lost brother. The vehicle began to lose altitude as Tom attempted to correct its pitch.

“You able to keep going?” Lucy asked concernedly.

”I can keep up.” he said as Lucy overtook him. A warning light lit up on the console as the corvette turned its long range cannons towards them.

They were nearly out of its effective weapon range, but not quite. A series of plasma lances launched as the ship unleashed a whole scale broadside at them. The majority of the shots were aimed at Tom’s flagging banshee.

A quick bit of mental math told him he didn’t have the speed to outpace them. And with one engine guttered out he couldn’t manoeuvre out of the way either. There was only one thing for it.

“Lucy. I need a ride.”

“Acknowledged.” she said. Her banshee slowed and dropped beneath his. The plasma lances were getting close fast. A green dot flashed in his visor. Lucy was in position. He bailed out.

His feet collided with the bow of her banshee. He activated the magnetic locks on his soles to anchor himself. No sooner had he planted himself then did Lucy bank the vehicle upside down in a barrel roll manoeuvre. Powerful G-forces began ripping at him, working in tandem with the wind, they tried to dislodge him from his perch. But despite the strain being plied on him, the magnetic clamps held.

A loud roar and wave of heat washed over his armour as his own banshee was enveloped by multiple plasma lances.

As the spin continued he started losing his sense of orientation. He could no longer say which way he was facing. Out of the corner of his eye he could see two plasma lances trailing them, desperately trying to match the banshees tight turn.

Pain lanced through him as the forces pulling on him bled through the dampeners in his armour. He somehow managed to lower himself and plant his hands against the bulbous bow. “Lucy!” he seethed through gritted teeth.

The banshee made a hard pull up. The dampeners in his suit were being pushed to there breaking point. Then in an instant the strain vanished as the vehicle righted itself and began cruising normally.

It took Tom a moment to register the dual explosions behind them. Lucy had kept them in a stern chase long enough for the magnetic fields coalescing the plasma to unspool. The plasma thus freed has promptly dissipated itself as fast as possible.

A moment of silence passed. “Sorry.” Lucy said. “It was the only thing I could do.”

Tom shook his head. Partly in rejection of her apology, partly to shake off the nausea settling on him.

“No need for apologies.” he said. “That was some great piloting back there.”

A green light flashed in his helmet. He sighed to himself. It would seem some habits died hard.


	3. The Lost Art of Subtly

“We can’t hold this position!” Captain Merculia barked into her comm unit. The Jovian was taking a beating, her recently retrofitted shields were on the brink of collapse. Once they were gone then the real problems would begin.

“We need to break off engagement!” she yelled.

“Negative.” Wanzay replied. “My team has now not yet achieved insertion. Your request to withdraw is denied.”

She slammed her fist against her command chair. “To hell with your team Wanzay! This is a pointless suicide mission and you know it!”

“I’m afraid Captain that however you read this situation is not my concern. You will maintain station until insertion is completed and I authorise your withdrawal.”

“We won’t last that long!” she screamed.

“Then you and your crew have my condolences captain. I’ll see to it your names are given all appropriate honours.”

She clenched her fist so tight that she could feel the bones creaking beneath it. “And I’ll see to it that an appropriate seat is reserved for you in hell! The throne perhaps!” She slammed the comm controls and the line went dead. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of having the last word.

“Captain!” her watch hand called. “Shields have failed!”

“Damn you Wanzay.” she cursed under her breath.

* * *

“Hold on!” Lucy yelled. “This ain’t exactly gunna be subtle!”

Tom clung to the upper canopy of the banshee, all four of his limbs pressed hard against it as the magnetic clamps locked him in place. Before them loomed the CCS. It’s shields were down and it hanger bay exposed. The Jovian, now a crashed wreck upon the surface of Rhodes, had done its job.

Too late did the battle-cruiser seem to realise they weren’t friendly. Its point defence cannons began to warm, but Lucy was gunning it as hard she could. Before they could even finish charging the banshee careened past there effective firing range. The shield of the hanger bay hummed over them. They were in.

Tom detached himself from away from the banshee and fell away towards the hanger below. Lucy aimed the banshee away towards a parked phantom and bailed out herself. The resulting collision and following explosion lit up the hanger in a brilliant purple light.

Tom paid it no mind. Pulling his rifle loose he hit the deck and immediately began picking targets. Two jackals and a squad of grunts slumped to the ground dead in front of him.

The hanger became a confused battlefield as the burning wreckage of the phantom crashed into the deck, angry needles and green gnats swarmed the air, and the sound of dying aliens filled the room.

Tom minced his way through alien after alien until he found himself back at Lucy’s side. “We need to move.” he said. A green acknowledgement light answered him. The two of them began retreating to the nearest door.

Tom turned around to play with the controls. “Cover me! I’ll get it open!” Lucy took a position over him and continued firing at the now significantly thinned out remains of the deck crew.

A few button presses later and the door cycled open. Tom barely had enough time to launch sideways into Lucy and knock her out of the way of the brute chieftain that stormed out of the door, slashing at her with the blade end of a brute shot.

The two of them hit the deck. Tom immediately bounced back up and leapt at the giant alien, wrapping himself around the brutes arm before it could recover from its swing. The chieftain roared and dropped its weapon. It reached over with its now free hand and grabbed him. It gave a single mighty wrench, strong enough to rip Tom free of his grapple. It promptly launched him clear across the deck.

Tom crashed to the deck and felt the armour attempting to compensate for some kind of internal damage. But with the adrenaline pumping through him he couldn’t tell what exactly. Pushing that problem aside he rebounded onto his feet, preparing for the brute to rush him. 

Instead he found it struggling with Lucy who had somehow managed to wrap her legs around its head. The brute was trying to toss her off, and Lucy seemed to be trying to crush its windpipe with her thighs.

Tom charged forward himself and struck it dead in the torso. The creature stumbled back and howled with pain, but continued standing, still desperately trying to remove Lucy from its neck.

Rather then give it a chance to recover Tom started launching blow after blow into its chest with his fists. It finally stumbled backward and collapsed to its knees, gasping for air. Before Tom could start hammering its head his shield began flaring.

Turning around he saw that what few forces remained in the hanger had rallied to help the stricken chieftain. He muttered a curse and turned around. A few grunts and a swarm of buggers had materialised behind them. Tom activated his thrusters and punched himself sideways.

The resulting kick from the manoeuvre sent a lance of pain down his right side. At least he now knew what has armour was compensating for. Ignoring the pain he levelled his rifle and fired. Two grunts slumped dead but the hail of fire coming his way was too great.

His shields sparked and failed. He was completely exposed. Green splashes of plasma started boiling away at his armour. The thermal regulators began attempting to compensate for the rapid increase in temperature but couldn’t quite match the rapid exchange.

Still Tom kept firing. Six grunts now lay dead, but three still stood and the buggers were still buzzing around. There was simply too many guns shooting at him.

A grenade flew past him and landed amongst the surviving grunts. Then a hand grabbed him from behind and yanked him backward through the door. Bolts of hissing plasma continued to fly through the closing hatch until it sealed closed. A moment later there was a dull thud followed by silence.

Tom looked up to see Lucy leering over him, her hands tracing the damage to his armour. He couldn’t help but notice the stiffness in her left arm.

“I told you.” she grumbled. “Your not allowed to die.”

He couldn’t suppress a bark of laughter, followed by a groan of pain.

“Nearly melted through in three areas…” she murmured.” ...major damage to shield projectors across the torso and arms...and it looks like the right side is over pressurised to compensate for a few broken right ribs.”

“So not too bad then.” he joked.

She turned her head to look at him. Her visor stared into him. “Not too bad.” she agreed

“Good. Then let’s gets moving.” he said standing up. “I’m sure we’ll have more friends arriving shortly.”

Lucy spent a moment longer giving him a look, then nodded, then turned and ran down the corridor. He followed close on her heels.


	4. Second Floor: Spartans, Brutes, and Lesser Prophets of Abiding Humility

Lucy had never been fond of covenant design. The slick organic curves. The over saturated use of purple. These things had long since been assigned negative connotations in her mind. Operation Torpedo had made sure of that.

But beyond that she fundamentally hated how aesthetically pleasing she actually found it to be. It stood in stark contrast to her feelings towards those who had built it. Those feelings made her want to hate it. To loathe everything about it. But she couldn’t. And that was the thing she hated most about it.

She crouched deeper into her hidey hole. The entrance to a duct designed for engineer use. It lay out of the way in a shadowed alcove. The perfect place to disappear.

Below her lay a wide spanning deck. Around it lay various different forerunner artefacts, all suspended in covenant gravity holders. The purple light of the energy projectors glinted dully off the burnished metal of the artifacts.

Amongst them a couple of brutes stood guard. Their attention was split between the two doors that allowed access to the room. They were waiting for demons.

At the centre of the room stood a slightly raised dais, on top of which floated a chair with a thin gangly creature cradled inside.

“Has the excavation work been completed yet?” asked the prophet to a nearby chieftain.

The brute bowed. “Not yet holy one.” he replied. “The intervention of the human ship has delayed our-“

“I do not care for what the humans are doing.” the prophet barked. “They are inconsequential.”

The chieftain fell to one knee and hung his head. “Apologies holy one. We shall redouble our efforts.”

“Good. See to it that you do not fail me.” he said. “The others may cower and hide. But not I! Not when the great journey is so near at hand!”

“Once we recover the relic, all shall be as it should have been. We will rebuild the covenant anew! And once our task is complete we shall unleash the divine wind to see us on the path once more!” The brutes scattered around the room rose their heads in unison and roared approval at the prophets words.

Lucy didn’t like the sound of this. They were zealots. All of them. And worse than that they were zealots with no handle on reality. They were all suffering from the same delusions of grandeur. Believing that just four ships and a single forerunner relic could rebuild their lost empire. Lucy didn’t care how powerful the forerunner had been. No single device could ever reforge the covenant. That was impossible.

* * *

“Lucy? You in position?” Tom asked her over teamcom. She sent a green light in affirmation.

“Good.” he said. “Once the lights go out you start the party. I’ll be right behind you.” She sent another green acknowledgement light.

“Sixty seconds starts now. Be ready.” His line went dead.

Lucy shifted herself and prepared to leap down. She refocused on what the prophet was saying.

“-the demons. Have they been dealt with yet?”

“No your holiness.” the chieftain said carefully. “We have secured all major stations, but we know not what they seek.”

The prophet seemed to consider that a moment. “They will likely be heading to capture the bridge or seize the reactors. If they succeed in taking either then they will be able to prevent the completion of our most holy mission.”

The brute bowed again. “I will see that they are killed before they can interfere with our sacred task.”

“See to it that you do. Time is against us in our work here. Every moment we delay is a moment the great journey slips further away from our grasp.”

“We will not fail you holy one! The demons shall be dealt with. The artefact shall be recovered. And the covenant will be reforged again!”

The brutes again chanted there appraisal of their chieftains words with a chorus of deep throated bellows. As they howled up into the air Tom made his move. The room vanished into darkness. 

Lucy’s night vision kicked in immediately, painting the room in a sickly green glow. She didn’t wait around before moving. She had no intention of letting them get their collective bearings. 

She dropped down and landed at the edge of the room. Hefting her rifle, she started slugging head shots into the pack of confused brutes. A litany of angry cries raised in response and many of them began turning to and fro to try and locate the source of the cracking noise her gun was producing.

Another set of gunshots began blaring on the far side of the room. Tom has certainly been quick on his feet. The two of them were making chum of the brutes. There numbers thinning rapidly. The smarter of their number had been swift enough on the uptake to shelter behind the artefacts. Taking cover from there unseen assailants.

A dull purple light filled the room as a shield enveloped itself over the dais, serving to protect the prophet and his guardian chieftain inside.

In the dim light it provided Lucy could see the outlines of brutes breaking cover to fire back. She ducked behind a floating artefact herself as a flurry of spikes soared past her.

Her left shoulder twinged as her arm began to lock up. She scowled and used the armours inbuilt stimulant system to force the muscles back into action. As the injection poured chemicals directly into her arm the pinching sensation stopped, and her arm became loose again. 

She would pay for it later. The damage to the muscles tissue would only build the more she forced it into service. But she had no other option. She had to stay operational. She needed to be able to fight.

She pulled a scavenged plasma grenade and looked behind the cylindrical style artefact she was pressed against. Another blast of needles swished past her. She ducked back, armed the grenade, and tossed it towards the source of the fire.

Before it had even landed she dove sideways, and slugged three rounds into the brute who was attempting to stumble away from the explosive. The sticky landed against one of the forerunner artefacts and detonated.

* * *

A blue and gold light swirled out of the damaged device. A holographic image attempted to materialise within the whirling lights, but seemed unable to fully actualise itself. It stuttered for a few seconds before the glowing swirls were sucked back inside the artefact which promptly fell dormant once again.

As weird as that had been, Lucy had seen stranger. Onyx had made sure that there was nothing left in the universe that would surprise her. It certainly wouldn’t interfere with her work.

Her rifle clicked empty. She reached to grab a new mag and was abruptly blindsided by an enormous arm smashing into the side of her. It would seem the image had served to distract her ever so slightly after all. Enough at least to let the lumbering brute get the drop on her.

She was launched back onto the deck. She scrambled quickly to get back up. The brute rounded on her, launching itself on top of her, knocking her immediately back onto the floor. It made to punch at her. She grabbed its fist. The two struggled for supremacy, each pushing as hard against the other as they could.

Lucy launched a swift blow with her other hand into the side of its head. The creature roared and reared back. It lifted both arms above it, intending to crush her beneath a single mighty blow. As fast as lightning Lucy reached down, grabbed her pistol, and levelled it at the brutes head just as its arms began to swing down.

A single loud crack blasted from the magnum. It went clean through the brutes head. Its swing failed and it collapsed in a heap on top of her.

She grunted loudly at the added mass weighing down on her. ‘Perks of the job.’ she quipped to herself. She groaned and with considerable effort heaved the corpse off of her.

She didn’t even try to stand up, instead seeking new targets from where she lay with her pistol. But she found nothing. The room was quiet. Only the low hum of the shield projector filled the air. She looked over to see Tom standing a short distance clear of the shield, his gaze focused in at its occupants.

* * *

A double orange blip lighted up in her helmet. She responded with a quick green blip back. Tom made an ever so subtle nod and started to talk.

“You are the lesser prophet of abiding humility correct?” he said. The chieftain growled and put himself between the two. The san’shyum said nothing.

“I have orders to end your unprovoked attack on the human colony of Rhodes.”

“Do not lecture to me demon.” the prophet said. “I am on a sacred and holy mission. Your interference is an act of heresy!”

Lucy got back to her feet and stalked around to stand on the opposite side of the shield from Tom. The chieftain voiced his displeasure at being unable to shield the prophet from both sides.

“Command doesn’t really care what your mission is. They only need it to stop. ONI however are very interested in what you're up to. They are offering you safe passage off this ship in exchange for that information.”

The prophet spat. “To suggest I would desecrate myself by making deals with vermin like you.”

Tom sighed. He activated the teamspeak line so only she could hear him. “Guess we do this the hard way. Be ready.”

He activated his speaker system again. “Then per my orders I am forced to take you into custody. Willing or otherwise.”

The prophet made a strange strangled noise. Lucy realised belatedly it was laughing. “You will find nothing aboard this vessel demon but death. Your race is an ignorant blight. Your very existence offends all who walk the path! I will see that your entire species is purged before we complete our sacred journey!”

A nav marker appeared in Lucy’s sight. It was positioned over the top of a jutting protrusion sticking out of the deck to her left. Tom had labelled it “Shield power conduit?”

Lucy turned slightly and examined it more closely. It certainly resembled others she had seen aboard covenant vessels. Why the designers had thought to leave such a vital piece of equipment exposed like that was beyond her.

She amended the label. “Probably?” Tom sent back a green light. His hand reached for his belt and the plasma grenade strapped there. Lucy tilted her gun subtly to aim at the conduit.

* * *

“Last chance to change your mind.” Tom said “Surrender and you can walk out of here freely. Final offer.”

“Your very words are blasphemy!” it hissed.

Tom didn’t reply. Instead he tugged the grenade loose and lobbed it at the conduit. It stuck fast to it and exploded in a shower of blue lightning. Lucy opened up with her rifle at the impact site. The conduit sparked and sputtered for a second before exploding itself in an ball of blue and orange fire.

The shield collapsed and the room fell back into darkness. The muzzle flash of Tom’s gun outlined him as he blasted the charging brute chieftain. Lucy rushed forward herself, her night vision kicking back in again, and jumped up on to the prophets hovering chair. She pulled her knife free and placed it around his neck. He had never even had a chance to react.

“Stop!” she bellowed with all the command she could muster. “Or the holy one dies!”

Tom has vanished behind one of the artefacts and the brute had seemingly been about to charge him down. It turned and faced her. Even in the dark she could feel his eyes piercing her. He roared in challenge and moved towards them.

“Tell it to stop.” she hissed at the prophet. He snarled in response to her. But he was not so stupid as to not realise the situation.

“Halt!” he cried. The chieftain stopped dead in its tracks and lowered itself into a crouch.

“Good.” she said. “Now tell him to go and stop the glassing.”

That seemed to override whatever common sense the prophet possessed. “Do not dare to try and interfere with our holy mission demon!” he spat. “What we do is-“ she pressed the knife closer to his neck.

“I don’t care about your mission. Order him to go stop the glassing. Or you’ll never live long enough to complete your great journey.”

Strange hissing noises escaped the prophet as he seemed terribly divided on what to do. Lucy decided to make the decision easier for him. She pressed the knife in just enough to draw a thin trickle of blood. He yelped in response and barked orders.

“Cease the cleansing! Halt the excavation!” he blurted out. She watched as the chieftain begrudgingly rose back up to his feet.

“It will be done.” the brute grinded out. Tom had re-emerged behind him, his weapon levelled with the brutes head.

Lucy could see the grip the brute had on his hammer. His fist so tightly clenched she was amazed he hadn’t snapped the handle. But despite the prophets instruction he remained stationary. His gaze fixed on Lucy.

“You heard the holy one!” Tom snapped. “Go tell them to stop glassing!”

The chieftain growled at the order, but turned and walked over to a deactivated terminal. The blinking lights and holo displays lit the room up at his touch. “Stop the excavation.” he growled into the device.

“Tarbus!” a voice cried back in response. “Surely you jest! We are so close to uncovering the-“

“Are you questioning my authority!” he barked angrily. “Are you questioning the will of the prophet!”

“No!” the voice replied. “Never!”

“Then cease operations immediately!”

There was a two second pause. “It will be done chieftain.” The brute rose away from the terminal and turned back to face the rest of them.

“It is done holy one.” he said with a bow.

“Good.” Lucy said. “Now. Me and my fellow Demon here are going to be taking the holy one here on a little trip.”

The chieftain growled threateningly. “And!” Lucy continued. “We’ll be leaving aboard one of your dropships. So go get one ready for our departure.”

A silence fell upon the room. The brute gave no discernible reaction. His silhouette highlighted in the light of the console. Tom shuffled slowly around him. Only the haggard wheezing of the prophet filled the darkened room.

* * *

A priority communication request beeped in her ear. It had been sent to Tom as well. She accepted the call patching the caller into their teamspeak.

“Spartans?” said Wanzay. “Status? The cruiser’s ventral beam just went silent.”

“Affirmative.” Tom replied. “We have the prophet secured and are negotiating exfiltration.”

“Negotiating? Do you have the prophet in custody or not?”

“Affirmative.” Lucy replied. “I have him secured at knife point. However, his followers are less than willing to allow us to leave.”

There was a moments pause. “Understood Spartan. Negotiations will no longer be necessary however. I am providing an alternate.”

“Sir? Specify?”

“Instruct the crew to lower their shields. Then acquire clearance for a dropship to access there port side hanger bay. Escort the prophet on board and bring him back to the Mesa.”

“Sir I’m not entirely sure that this course of action is possible. I would suggest-“ Tom began.

“Spare me your professional opinion soldier.” Wanzay intoned condescendingly. “Now acknowledge receipt of orders.”

Lucy couldn’t see Tom’s face. But she knew he was rolling his eyes. Wanzay may as well have just asked them to gift wrap and put a bow the prophet as well. As if it was going to be that easy.

“Spartans.” he said warningly. “Acknowledge orders.”

“Acknowledged sir.” Tom replied flatly.

“Acknowledged sir.” Lucy said dryly.

“Good. Relay back to me once we have clearance.” The line clicked dead.

Lucy squeezed her free hand in frustration. The brute hadn’t moved since the commander had contacted them. The prophet himself was starting to squirm beneath her. She gave a mental sigh and flared her nostrils.

“Alright.” she said pretending as though the conversation she had just been a part of had never occurred. “I can see you are disinclined to part with one of your ships. Let me offer you a new deal.”

Before she could continue the lights in the room snapped back on. Her helmet responded instantly, polarising to near total darkness. It had spared her eyes. The prophet and the chieftain were not so lucky.

The brute slammed his free hand over his eyes. The prophet lifted his shawl over his face to block the sudden barrage of light.

Multiple brutes, jackals, and grunts swarmed into the room from every direction. Lucy clutched the knife a little tighter. Tom fell back to stand on the dais beside her.

The chieftain started to laugh. A harsh guttural noise. “Nowhere to run demons.”

He rose back to his full height and lifted his hand off his face, blinking at them through bloodshot eyes.

“And neither does he.” Tom said pointing his rifle at the prophet.

That earned a clamorous uproar of disapproval from the forces lining up around them. The chieftain grunted in his own frustration.

“Free the holy one.” he barked. “And we may let you leave here alive.”

"Sounds like a bad deal to me.” Tom said. “Let me offer a counter proposal.” Another clamorous roar of descent filled the room.

Lucy scanned them. If they decided to attack them there was nothing either of them could do. Only the squirming bag of flesh she held shielded them from that fate. Her arm began to form a slight twinge again. The drugs were starting to wear off. She grimaced to herself.

“Drop your shields.” Tom continued. “Allow one of our own dropships to land on board. Then we leave with the holy one here and go on our merry way. Square deal?”

A couple of the brutes snapped there jaws loudly but a motion from the chieftain stopped them. He looked solely at the prophet.

“What is your will holy one?” he asked.

The prophet stopped squirming at the address and became seemingly poised once more. But Lucy could feel the slight tremble still subtly wracking his body. 

“We can not allow our holy mission to be halted. Our sacred journey is only just beginning. We must be ready to weather any hurdles we may encounter.”

Lucy wasn’t sure where he was going with this. But she decided to remind him of the situation by warbling the blade against his neck. A silent half choke escaped him before he continued talking.

“Allow the humans there vessel. I will journey with them and uncover why they dare to interfere with our divine tasking. Then I shall return and we shall complete what we have begun. The darkest hours often preceded the dawn brothers. And I know the light of a new day will soon shine upon our covenant!”

The crowd of aliens erupted with excited cheering. ‘Fanatics.’ Lucy thought to herself. ‘They can’t even see the reality of what’s actually happening here. They just trust his word blindly. Ignoring what there own eyes tell them.’

She looked at the chieftain. He wasn’t celebrating. He understood precisely what was happening, but was powerless to stop it.

“Tarbus.” the prophet said. “Take command in my absence. See to it that things are ready upon my return.”

The brute bowed. “Yes holy one.” he replied emptily. 

Tom opened there teamspeak. “I don’t know how we just managed that. But I’m not going to complain.” Lucy sent a green blink back in reply.

She leaned forward to the prophets ear. “Enough showmanship.” she whispered warningly. “Time to go.” 

He gave a short hiss back at her before activating the controls on his hovering throne. It began accelerating forward off the dais. Tom jumped down and kept up pace bedside them.

The crowd of covenant parted before them, still cheering loudly for their beloved holy one. The brute that she now knew was called Tarbus did not however, instead falling in step beside them as well.

As they proceeded out of the room and into the ships corridors Tom opened a communication line outside the ship.

“Commander?” he asked.

There was a brief silence before Wanzay answered. “Go ahead Spartan.” he said.

“We have acquired permission for docking and are proceeding with the prophet to the port side hanger bay.”

“Outstanding work.” he said. Lucy was taken aback for a moment. Actual praise. “The pelican is lifting off now. ETA three minutes. Contact me again once on board and in transit.” The line clicked dead.

“I think that’s the nicest thing I’ve heard him say yet.” Lucy muttered.

"It might be the nicest thing he’s ever said.” Tom muttered back.


	5. Bullseye

The pelican wafted through the energy shield covering the hanger and rotated one hundred and eighty degrees to display its open ramp for them. Standing inside was a small four man squad of ODST’s and a woman who was very clearly an ONI spook.

She descended the ramp first, utterly oblivious to Tarbus who was watching her with a gaze so intense it could have melted the floor itself.

She walked up to and in front of the prophet. “Gol Mron. Acting lesser prophet of abiding humility. I am here to take you into ONI custody pending charges for your unwarranted attack on the human colony of Rhodes.”

The prophet said nothing. He merely stared at her with a look of distaste. It didn’t seem to phase her at all.

The ODST’s lined up behind her. “Now. If you would please follow my honour guard here back on board.”

He still continued to just glare at her. Lucy watched as the spook gave her a subtle eye flick. The message was clear. ‘Encourage him to cooperate please.’

She nudged him in the back. He let out an annoyed noise but began moving the chair forward. Tarbus watched in abject silence. Every hair on his body bristling at what was happening, and how he was powerless to stop it.

The ONI spook re boarded the pelican and made an inviting gesture for the prophet to join her. He scowled at the false niceties but obliged. Only once they were securely inside did Lucy remove the blade from his neck. She no longer needed to threaten him. The ODST’s had that covered as they marched back up the ramp, half of them pointing there guns towards him.

Tom was the last to board. He stood on the end of the ramp and nodded back to Tarbus. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

Lucy could tell the chieftain wanted nothing more than to tear his head off. Tom backed up the ramp and continued to stare at the brute as the hatch sealed closed.

”We’re all aboard.” the ONI operative said into her wrist. “Punch it.”

The pelican shook violently as it lifted quickly off the deck and rocketed out of the cruisers hanger. Tom opened a line to Wanzay.

“Commander. The prophet is secured and we’re aboard the pelican, heading for the rendezvous.”

A second later he replied. “Good. Our sensors are still indicating that the cruisers shields are down. Open the pelicans rear door so the prophet can see this.”

“Sir?” Tom asked.

“Comply with the order Spartan.”

“Yes sir.” Tom said. Lucy could hear it in his voice. He was ready to move onto the next assignment, and to be as far away from commander Wanzay as it could put him.

He reached over and struck the hatch release with the side of his fist.

“What are you doing!?” the ONI spook said standing up from her mission of reading a long litany of charges to the prophet, a list he seemed supremely disinterested in.

“Following orders.” Tom replied. “Hey holy one! Over here! Commander wants you to see this.”

The prophet turned around with a great look of distain written across his face. Beyond the hatch could be seen the receding bulk that was the Cruiser.

“What do you vermin insist upon now-“ he began.

A loud crack filled the air. The sound of something smashing through the atmosphere. A second later a MAC round broke the cloud layer above and smashed into the ship. It detonated its high explosive yield before it could exit the other side. Explosions ripped there way down the length of the vessel, ripping her apart from stem to stern.

An overwhelming sense of satisfaction overcame Lucy. That chieftain would never get his chance for revenge now.

She looked back to see a look of abject horror on the prophets face. An even greater sense of satisfaction washed over her at the sight.

A series of whooping noises escaped the ODST’s as what was left of the cruiser lost the ability to maintain altitude and plummeted into the vitrified earth below, crashing down beside the smoking ruins of the Jovian.

A great plume of fine microglass particles blustered up over the wreck, carried upward in the enormous dust cloud it jettisoned skyward.

“I believe the commander has made his point.” the ONI spook said to the prophet. She was quick on the uptake apparently. “Continued resistance on your part is no longer a fruitful endeavour. I hope you will be more compliant moving forward.”

The prophet simply continued to gaze aghast at the ruins of his tiny empire. Lucy looked at Tom and he looked back at her. She nudged her head at the door control. He nodded and pressed it again. The aft door closed shut.

“So.” the spook said. “Now that we have your full and undivided attention, ONI has a few questions for you.”

The prophet seemed to be lost in a world of his own thoughts. He was completely oblivious to everyone around him.

The spook rolled her eyes and looked at Lucy. “Can I get assistance here Spartan?”

Lucy nodded and reached over to the prophet. As her gauntleted hand approached him he returned to his senses with a jerk, recoiling away from her. She pointed at the spook behind him. He simply glowered at her with a mix of hatred and revulsion.

Tom sighed. He placed his hand on the side of the chair and physically rotated it himself. The prophets gaze snapped to him as he was turned around. Even after he had settled he continued to glare at him. The spook snapped her fingers loudly. The prophets head snapped to look at her.

“Listen here Gol. ONI has questions for you. And your going to answer them. I have a very long list of them here. From learning what you were excavating, to uncovering what your long term plans were. My superiors are all very interested to learn these things. And with time they most assuredly will. But one question stands out above them all. By far the most pressing mystery on even ONI’s lips. And one which only you can answer.” She paused to square the prophets eyes with her own. “Where are the rest of the San’Shyum?”


End file.
